


"Courage"

by Kotterin



Category: Turn (TV 2014)
Genre: Crack, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-12
Updated: 2015-06-12
Packaged: 2018-04-04 02:21:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4122402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kotterin/pseuds/Kotterin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fill for the TURN kink meme: http://turn-kink.livejournal.com/799.html?thread=142879#t142879</p><p>Bradford has been trying to get court-martialed since day one. Unfortunately, no matter what outrageous stunt he pulls, Lee keeps promoting him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	"Courage"

Tallmadge had been hesitant at first. He was always hesitant. Always worried about proving himself and impressing Washington and all sorts of noble shite. And with that knowledge in mind, Tallmadge’s concerns over being spread out on the dinner table like a three-course meal were understandable. But by the time Bradford got his hand down those abnormally tight breeches, any and all protests dissipated.  
  
In hindsight, it was Tallmadge’s fault they got caught. Though he came across as demure between their encounters, all modesty went out the window within minutes once they were alone. Perhaps it was simple inexperience on Tallmadge's part. Every touch seemed to spark a wildfire in the younger man, and while Bradford certainly appreciated the enthusiasm, it could occasionally be problematic. Such as when Tallmadge, in all his impatient glory, managed to send several dishes clattering to the floor as he climbed onto the table, kicking off his boots as he went. 

He was also  _loud._ Sure, he made an effort to keep quiet in the beginning, biting onto anything in reach when his lips weren't locked to Bradford's, but as soon as he felt those long fingers push inside him, all efforts ceased with a throaty moan neither man cared to silence. Normally, Bradford would take time to savor these sounds as they slowly grew louder, but with dinner about to start and the very real possibility that quite literally anyone in camp could just waltz in, he decided he would have to save thoroughness for another day. He could not, however, resist quickly curling his fingers and _pressing_ , relishing the bitten-off scream as his fingertips drummed softly against the younger man's prostate.

His hands were shaking, he noted with distaste, as he withdrew his fingers from Tallmadge's arse to undo his own breeches. Preparing Tallmadge any further was out of the question at this point, since not only was Bradford fairly certain someone had heard them by now, his patience was also at its end. So was Tallmadge's, if the man's impatient glares were anything to go by. Bradford's hands clamped down on Tallmadge's hips and, with one quick, deep thrust, buried himself in the tight heat of man sprawled on the table in front of him.

The reaction was instantaneous. The Major's legs quickly wrapped around Bradford's waist, while his hands scraped along the tabletop, scattering the remaining forks and knives as he desperately groped for something to hang on to. Bradford wasn’t sure whether it was the sound of the silverware crashing to the floor or the impressive volume and frequency of Tallmadge’s whorish moans that drew their unwelcome guest, but the poor boy didn’t remain long once he realized he hadn’t just walked in on a brawl.

There could be no question as to what was happening. Tallmadge’s legs were draped over Bradford’s shoulders, hands alternatingly clawing at his face and the other man’s shirtsleeves, the back of his head knocking against the tabletop with every thrust.   
  
Moments before the tent flap was wrenched open once again, Tallmadge’s fingers threaded through Bradford’s hair, pulling him down for a sloppy kiss to muffle his shriek as he came, muscles clamping down around Bradford’s cock in a vice-grip. He could feel Tallmadge's body trembling against his own, as well as the warmth of the man's release soaking through the front of his shirt, and it was only seconds after realizing they were no longer alone in the room that Bradford was coming as well, heedless of the outraged glare on His Excellency’s face.  
  
\---  
  
Less than ten minutes later, Bradford sat in the chair across from Charles Lee, looking a mixture of smugness and outright boredom. Still slightly out of breath, his hair was a complete mess where a certain cheeky Major’s hands had tangled themselves in it. His waistcoat was buttoned wrong, and his coat sported a large, incriminating stain across the front.  
  
“General Washington has asked me to reprimand you,” Lee was saying, and Bradford resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “You were caught having unholy relations with a fellow officer on the same table upon which we  _eat.”_  
  
Bradford shrugged. “I stuck a bottle of Madeira up his arse last week. And then I gave the Madeira to a group of twelve-year-old fifers.”  
  
Lee nodded solemnly, and Bradford did his best to quell the feeling of elation surging in his chest. This was finally it. Court-martial at long last. “That took courage,” Lee said, and Bradford did a double take.  
  
“It…  _courage,_  sir?”  
  
“I’m having you promoted.”  
  
Bradford’s mouth fell open, momentarily stunned into silence. “Are you…  _trying_  to lose this war?"

Lee did not reply. Not with words, in any case. And he didn't need to. The tiniest hint of a smirk on his face was enough of an answer.


End file.
